


Red wine

by pettybear



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Castles, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Phantom Thieves - Freeform, Rebellion, king kamoshida, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2020-09-01 16:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20261440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettybear/pseuds/pettybear
Summary: Living under king Kamoshida's tyranny was painful. No one knew that more than stable boy Ryuji, who was growing more restless each day, along with the rest of the castle.In comes the leader of the rebels, calling themselves the 'Phantom thieves', who turns the kingdom upside down. But it's upon Ryuji himself to challenge fate and take matters into his own hands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not completely historically accurate, so consider it more like a fantasy au

Ryuji’s POV

The more his limbs ached from the freezing wind, the faster Ryuji shoveled. The sun was settling earlier since winter came around, which meant he had less time to complete his work in the stables. His stomach growled, a result of missing breakfast that morning, which affected his performance considerably.

“You need some help with that?” Yamauchi asked, although they both knew he would never. Ever since the older man had been promoted to stable hand, he wouldn’t even _look _at the hay anymore.

“I’ll be fine,” Ryuji bit out, heading deeper into the stables to hide his annoyance. What happened to the previous stable hand was most certainly not an accident, and Yamauchi definitely didn’t deserve the position. But he knew no matter how much he grumbled and fought, some things would never change. Life would never be fair, not to people like him.

In the end, he succeeded cleaning out the waste right before darkness fell, much to his relief. If it weren’t for the tremble in his knees, he would have ran to the kitchen. About a third of the servants including himself resided in a stone building separate from the castle, with their very own kitchen and sleeping quarters.

“Ryuji, is that you? You smell like death,” Haru playfully chuckled, already working on tomorrows dessert. She’d been promoted to being the head cook at the castle ever since her father passed away, a position not to be taken lightly. He ignored her in favor of focusing on the lone dark pot on the wooden table.

“Porridge again?” he sighed, but was secretly glad he could eat anything at all. He took a seat next to Makoto, one of the head maids.

“If you have complaints, why don’t you find something else to eat,” Makoto mumbled, aimlessly stirring in her own bowl. 

“Nah, I’m good,” he replied unattentively, shoving a spoonful of the cold, watery substance into his mouth. “Why’re you still cooking anyway, Haru?”

“You haven’t heard?” Makoto raised an eyebrow and set her spoon down, giving her full attention. “The king is having a guest over tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Haru supplied, “I heard he’s a prince coming here to strengthen our kingdoms ties!”

Makoto shook her head, her tightly braided hair not giving away an inch. “He’s not a direct descendant, just vaguely related to king Shido. And he’s coming to supervise the trading deals, nothing too fancy.”

“Still, his majesty demands a feast for our unexpected guest,” Haru sighed, returning to kneading the dough.

“Whatever,” Ryuji grumbled, “All those rich people are the same anyway. Bet ya he’ll just flaunt some coins, eat his full and leave when he’s done.”

“Be careful with what you say, if someone overheard you could be suspected for ties to the rebellion,” Makoto scolded, her red eyes sharpening.

Ryuji had heard of the rebels slowly but surely getting a foothold among the public. According to the governors they were just a bunch of dirt poor plebeians throwing a fit, but Ryuji disagreed. They were hope to the people in these dark, dreadful times, something they could all use a little of. People like himself, for example.

They called themselves ‘the phantom thieves,” and mostly robbed from the rich and apparently, gave that stolen money to the poor. Rumors have it they even have spies in the castle, although king Kamoshida chooses to ignore these claims with all his might.

“Let them think what they want, I ain’t gonna watch what I say just cause of some ridiculous rules.”

“This is why you got demoted to stable boy,” Makoto sighed, igniting a flair of agitation in him. “If only you learned when is the right time to speak, you would still be training to be part of the royal guards.”

He abruptly stood from the table, his wooden chair scraping over the stone floor to show his annoyance. “So it’s my fault, got it.”

“Ryuji…” Haru looked worried, pausing her stirring to glance over at her two friends.

“See ya,” he waved, only because he didn’t want to worry Haru. Makoto didn’t respond, watching him leave with calculating eyes. Slamming the door behind him, Ryuji’s footsteps were even louder than usual as he stomped up the stairs.

“… did I go too far there?” Makoto mumbled, letting a slither of guilt in.

* * *

Igniting the rushlight, the first thing Ryuji did when he got to his room was clean himself up. Dipping the cloth in freezing water, he wiped his body down with vigor. Haru wasn’t kidding when she said he smelled like death.

The small room he slept in was shared with Mishima, a servant in the castle, and Yusuke, the castle’s painter. The latter was sleeping peacefully in his wooden, hay filled bed. Strangely, Mishima wasn’t, which made Ryuji worry a little.

In truth, he knew how lucky he should feel. There was a time he had to sleep outside, begging for scraps when he got punished for his insolence towards the royal family. He should be glad they decided to welcome him back to the castle life at all, even as just a stable boy.

“Ryuji…” A groan sounded, along with the creaking of the wooden door opening.

“Mishima? What’s up with you?” Mishima staggered in, clutching his stomach.

He and Mishima had only recently met, when the boy arrived fresh faced and ready to please the king on his every whim. Now, Mishima was a chronically tired sad mess, an effect this castle had on many people.

“I’m feeling sick,” Mishima mumbled, looking paler than he’d ever seen him. “And at such a bad time too…”

“Oh yeah, you gotta work extra tomorrow cause of the ‘special guest’, right? Good luck man, hope you can sleep it off.”

Without another word, the black haired boy crawled into his bed and pulled the thin cover as high as his ears. Exhaustion hit Ryuji himself immediately after, so he diminished the light and laid down. Peering at the small trickle of moonlight shining through the tiny window near the ceiling, he wondered if his mother would be disappointed if she saw him now.

* * *

“Ryuji, get up!” A high voice said, shaking him awake.

“What the…?” He wasn’t supposed to get up yet, the duties of a stable boy begun only when light hit the world again. Now, it was still dark out, contributing to the sleepy haze around him.

“I need your help.” Turning around, Ryuji realized it was Mishima, who looked even worse than yesterday. “I feel awful. I can’t go like this, not today.”

“That sucks man, but what do you want me to do about it?”

“I need you to take my place.”

“What?” Ryuji gasped, scrambling up from his bed. “I can’t do that!”

“Please,” Mishima begged, looking like he could pass out any moment. “I’ve been sick too many times to be passable, and there’s a really important event today.”

“Look man, it’s not that I don’t wanna help you, but why me? I’ve never even been inside the castle.”

“Nobody else is available, and you haven’t been sick in all the time you’ve been here. Please Ryuji, I’ll be done for if I get kicked out.”

Ryuji scratched his head. “So what, you want me to clean or some crap?”

“No, it’s really easy! I’m the cup bearer, so all you have to do is make sure everyone’s cup stays full.”

“Ain’t that a really high position though? How the hell did you get that, and more importantly, ain’t no way they’re gonna let me do that!”

“I’m not really the official cup bearer, that’s Iwai. He tastes and serves to the king, I just refill the guests cups. You don’t even have to test it for poison!”

“Won’t Iwai notice though?” Ryuji asked, still not entirely convinced. “Ain’t he your boss?”

“I already talked with him, and he said he’ll cover for me. Please Ryuji? I’ll wash your clothes for as long as you’d like!”

* * *

And that’s how he ended up standing in the main dining hall, sweating profoundly from nerves, watching lords and ladies flood in with his spine straightened for the first time in years. 

Seeing the castle interior for the first time, Ryuji marveled at the beautiful décor and expensive items. Yusuke had done an incredible job on the murals painted over almost every wall, effectively lighting up anyone’s spirit who passed through. The air inside was also a lot warmer than anything was used to, and everything was well lit and generally pleasant.

“Make sure to listen closely to _everything _the guests ask of you, and carry that out to perfection,” Iwai whispered harshly a few meters from him, holding a jug of wine identical to his own. “And don’t ever, ever let untested wine meet those cups. Understood?”

_Fuck you Mishima_

“Got it, sir,” Ryuji nodded, taking care not to reach the nobles eyes as he bowed in greeting.

There were a total of eight large tables spread across the dining hall, the middle one reserved for the king, the princess, the royal family and his specials guests. When everyone had gathered, they stood in front of their chair and waited for the king to enter.

A number of servants opened the door and announced king Kamoshida’s presence. Ryuji had barely been able to catch flashes of the large man before, since he was either in the castle or out with his men conquering whatever ground he’d set his sights on.

King Kamoshida was well known for his cruel, imposing personality and his many war acquired lands. Strolling in with a large grin on his face, he was wearing his iconic red cape and, probably as a way to flaunt his status, his bejeweled royal crown. Upon properly seeing him, Ryuji decided he liked him even less than before.

Clutching onto his arm, princess Ann looked a lot less excited. She was wearing a long sleeved, finely detailed purple dress, complete with a golden belt and a pearl necklace matching the mesh braided in with her blond hair. She was not tied to the burly king yet, but everyone knew marriage was on the horizon soon. Behind her, her lady-in-waiting Shiho struggled to keep up with them.

“Greetings everyone, it is wonderful of all of you to come on this splendid day,” Kamoshida bellowed, walking to his seat at the head of the table. “This feast has been prepared to welcome a close ally of mine, grand duke Goro Akechi and his younger sister. I trust they will be treated with our usual hospitality!”

On que, the large doors opened again to reveal a young man with a small girl by his side, accompanied by his own personal set of servants.

The first thing Ryuji noticed was how unbelievably attractive his face was. His features were delicate and fine, dark thick eyelashes rivalling almost any girls. His pale face was adorned by an unruly mass of thick black curls, a small smile gracing his lips as he greeted the king with respect.

The girl clinging to him was, for a lack of better words, petite. She wore a loosely fitted green dress, her ginger hair had been neatly braided into a set of complicated designs on top of her small head. She looked a lot more shyer than the man, keeping her eyes cast downwards while she bowed.

“Thank you very much, your majesty. We are both honored to be here,” the black haired man, Akechi, said. His voice was smooth like velvet, although a little too confident.

“Then let this feast begin!” Kamoshida smiled, taking his seat and motioning his guests to do the same. After the king had his first pick of the finely crafted food Haru and the other cooks had prepared, everyone else were allowed to indulge themselves.

Through the loud chatter igniting, Iwai threw him a sharp nod to the table closest to the king’s. Ryuji shot forward, determined not to mess up. The wine had been tasted, so he had no reservations to gingerly pour the cups full. He recognized the man at his table as Kobayakawa, Kamoshida’s most trusted advisor.

Time passed quickly for the guests jovially sharing stories while digging into their food. For Ryuji, not so much.

There weren’t any moments to slack off and he was constantly on the move, since there was always a cup to fill. When his bad knee really started to ache, he decided to make a quick run for the kitchen to refill his jug as a way to take a breather from the hot, thick castle air.

“Ryuji!” Haru gasped, pausing her cooking to make her way through the busy kitchen staff. “What are you doing here?!”

“Relax Haru, I’m here to fill Mishima’s spot since he’s sick from work today.”

“And they just let you…?” Haru looked him up and down in surprise and shot him a pleasant smile. “That outfit looks great on you, though! It’s a lot different from your usual working clothes.”

“I know right?!” Ryuji grinned proudly. Being a stable boy meant he wasn’t exactly a fashion icon amongst the staff, but Mishima’s working clothes were also a lot more comfortable. “I think I was born to do this!”

“Yeah yeah, now go back before Makoto sees you slacking off.” Giggling, Haru refilled his jug and sent him back on his way.

Which was apparently right into Goro Akechi’s slender form, effectively spilling his recently acquired batch of red wine all over his expensive looking tunic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been busy with some other stories, but enjoyed writing another chapter for this :) I'd love to know what you thought!

Akira watched, mesmerized, as drops of the thick substance rapidly stained the previously beige fabric of his tunic a striking shade of crimson. He couldn’t help but think about the very same color currently sticking onto the kings hands, in the figurative sense, and the fact that he had to lap it all up.

“Oh crap,” The blond boy in front of him muttered, snapping Akira back to reality. He was… cute. Tanned skin, tousled hair and warm brown eyes. Nothing out of the norm, yet still managing to come across as enticing. He seemed to be in shock, but luckily for that thin neck of his, he realized his position just in time.

“Oh… oh no. I am so sorry, your grace, it was an accident!” The blond stretched his calloused hands out in a futile attempt to fix the situation, brows furrowed. “I-I…”

If it were any other time, Akira would’ve laughed it off. Assured him it’s all good, maybe flirt a little.

But right now, he _wasn’t_ Akira. He was Goro Akechi, and neither of them were naïve enough to think Akechi would’ve let this slide that easily.

So, albeit unwillingly, he tried his hardest to recall Sojiro’s instructions and acted like his goddamn life depended on it. And, well, it kinda did.

“You’re sorry?” he mocked, the venom in his tone foreign to his own ears. “This cloth was a gift from our alliance with the east. Tell me, servant boy, do you have the gold to pay me back?”

Akira felt a sharp, painful sting of guilt when the other flinched back. The poor boy looked like he was going to vomit, and Akira couldn’t blame him. He was feeling a little queasy himself.

“I-I don’t… the only thing I can offer you is my honest apology, your grace,” the boy said, the nervous slur in his words making it blatantly obvious he didn’t have a lot of experience talking to nobles.

Luckily, there was no one else present in the stone corridors, with all of the servants too busy running around to grab a fresh breath of air. So, Akira could and would be lenient when the situation presented itself.

“That will have to suffice for now, I suppose,” Akira said, his eyes nervously glancing back at the large dour he’d sneaked through. He wasn’t catholic, but he pleaded to the lord not to let the king notice his absence yet.

“A maid will fetch me my substitute garments.” He was about to turn around, but surprisingly, his own curiosity convinced him to stay. He pondered whether to take the risk for a second, and demanded, “State your name.”

“Huh?” was all the boy could manage as a response, the short relief in his eyes already replaced with the wariness of someone who’s been screwed over once before already.

“Your name. I assume your mother bothered to give you one?”

And _that_ was the moment something changed.

The dynamic shifted.

The servant looked up at “Akechi”, his gaze defiant and brown eyes like wild fire.

“It’s Ryuji, your grace,” the blond said, his handsome features morphing into a shameless show of contempt.

Akira swallowed thickly, taken aback. This was the type of attitude that got you severely punished in this wrong, awful world. Akira knew that better than anyone else.

“How dare you?” Akira asked, but there was no anger to be found in the words. Rather, he couldn’t even cover up the genuine curiosity starting to form towards the servant.

“I merely answered you answer, your grace,” Ryuji said, ‘respectfully’ turning his gaze back towards the floor.

But it was too late. Akira had seen the rebel deep inside, and he realized he’d found gold on a quest for copper.

Akira turned, not only because of the pressing time dilemma, but also to hide the smile he couldn’t quite bring himself to suppress.

“I won’t forget this, Ryuji,” Akira mumbled, and he meant it.

* * *

So much for being discreet.

Akira didn’t even need to look around to know that the second he opened the heavy doors of the banquet hall, all eyes were set on him. He made his way through the crowd while keeping his eyes trained on his destination; the main table.

Well, maybe not _all _eyes.

King Kamoshida was, much to both his relief and disgust, too busy ogling princess Ann’s pale collar bone to even notice his reappearance.

“Ah, brother! You’re back,” Futaba smiled serenely from her seat, her eyes narrowing when she saw his change of clothes. “Did you… have a change of clothing?”

“Ah, you noticed soon, Futaba,” Akira said, his Akechi mask slipping on. “Although my main purpose was a quick breath of fresh air, I thought a clean outfit would do me good.”

“It has been a long travel, after all.” He internally winced at the glare she discreetly threw him, most likely a consequence for leaving her with less than pleasant company. “In fact, if I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, I’d think a long rest would serve you well.”

He opened his mouth to whole heartedly agree, but was interrupted by Kamoshida’s brash voice.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to sleep already! The banquet has only just started, friend,” the king said, arrogance ever present. “Or… does my effort not please you?”

Akira recognized an underlying threat when he heard one, no matter how pleasant is was phrased.

“Of course not, your majesty, It’s quite the opposite. I’m beyond thankful for the warm welcome, your kingdom is even grander than I could have ever imagined,” Akira hurried to say, the sweat on his back turning cold.

Every time Kamoshida spoke, it felt like there was a knife pressed to Akira’s throat, threatening to pierce skin with even the slightest mistake.

“I’m pleased to hear it, young prince. I have to admit, I was quite taken aback when king Shido announced he would send his own heir as a temporary guest. And paired with such lovely company too,” Kamoshida smiled broadly, eyeing Futaba up and down. “You’ll be staying until the wedding at least, I assume?”

“Of course, Sire,” Akira faked a polite tug at his lips, suppressing a disgusted shudder in Futaba’s place. “Has a date been set yet?”

Kamoshida practically beamed with pride. “Keep this between us, but the wedding will take place in four moons. Soon, I will have a son of my own! Isn’t that right, princess?”

Princess Ann, on the other hand, looked less than enthused about the matter. She was a beauty, that much was true. Even in the most rural parts of the wide kingdom, the blonde’s foreign features spurred fables of a true temptress.

It felt strange seeing the subject of so many ladies admiration sitting right in front of him, and although she certainly looked the part, she didn’t quite act like it.

“Ah… we can only pray for such a blessing, my king,” she said softly, and Akira had to admit she was quite the actress herself. If it wasn’t for the slight stiffening of her shoulders, or the flicker of disgust in her blue eyes, he would have believed her. Regardless, Kamoshida saw nothing wrong.

“Truly, we have waited far too long to be united… in both heart and body,” Kamoshida grinned, downing a goblet of wine in one go.

_Pervert. _

“… I was wondering,” Ann desperately changed the subject, catching the attention of everyone present, “You look different compared to your descriptions, prince.”

Apparently, Ann was smarter than all of the banquet hall combined, much to his displeasure.

“Right,” Kamoshida mused, “Rumors are you’re the striking imagine of Shido. But Shido does not look as… delicate.”

“Oddly, I hear that often,” he laughed, squeezing Futaba’s clammy hand reassuringly under the table. “I assure you, it is merely a rumor spread to discredit my heritage. I ask you pay it no mind, your highness. They are false.”

“You must resemble your mother, then!” Kamoshida laughed, not a hint of suspicion apparent on his masculine features. “Heard she was a real beauty, despite the lack of… traceable ancestors.”

Akira was impressed. What a _fine_ way to call him, or more accurately Goro Akechi, a bastard. In the end, the same insults were spoken in and outside of the royal castle, they were just phrased differently.

Futaba yawned loudly before he even had the chance to pretend the comment meant anything to him. She rubbed her eyes, an obvious display of exhaustion.

“Ah, please excuse me, your majesty. I am afraid the long travel has taken its toll on my younger sister. May we excuse ourselves from the banquet?”

“Hm,” Kamoshida focused his dark gaze on Futaba, his dark eyes narrowing in amusement. “I understand. Women are frail, after all.” He stuck a large hand in the air, signaling for a servant to show them to their rooms.

“Thank you for the hospitality, your majesty. I will see you soon.” Akira stood after getting permission, bowing slightly as he left, Futaba in tow. “Blessings to the king.”

* * *

The rooms prepared for the two of them were truly grand, decorated to the brim with gold and satin.

It disgusted him.

“So?” Morgana asked, his short legs dangling off the pearly sheets of the mattress. “Did something happen? You didn’t say anything suspicious, did you?”

“I don’t know, Mona… we got real lucky back there. They asked why I didn’t look like Shido.”

Morgana’s head whipped up in alarm. “Thank God they kept the prince their dirty secret,” Morgana said. “I don’t think anyone’s even seen him outside the castle.” 

“Also, what were you thinking, leaving like that? You can’t just run off mere hours after our arrival, and in the middle of a banquet nonetheless!” Futaba scolded, angerly untying her hair. “Where did you even go?”

“Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help it. I was trying to meet our partner, I heard their name being dropped by one of the other servants.”

“Well,” Futaba shook her head, but smiled nonetheless. “You really can’t control your curiosity, as always. So, were they there?”

“Not a sign,” Akira sighed, unbuttoning his chemise. “I did meet a really interesting boy, though. He had potential.”

“Woah!” Futaba mocked gasped, doing a playful twirl around the massive room. “It’s rare to hear praise, coming from you. Are you going to recruit him?”

Akira thought about it. “I don’t know yet. We’re walking on thin ice… but I might pay him a visit sometime later, who knows?”

“Don’t,” Morgana snapped suddenly, rolling around the plush bed to look up at both of them. His blue eyes found his, and his boyish features turned to a grimace in disapproval. “We don’t need to rope more people into our business then we already did. It’s _dangerous._”

“… You worry too much, Morgana,” Akira said, a hint of melancholy to be found in his voice. “We worked so hard for this, there’s no way this could go wrong.”

After all, how hard could It be to kill a king?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment if you'd like to!


End file.
